


Meddling & Mistletoe

by wendyindahouse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Astrophysicist!Castiel, Baker!Dean, Barista!Dean, Christmas, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mistletoe shenanigans, Pining!Cas, Shipper!Sam, pining!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:16:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendyindahouse/pseuds/wendyindahouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Dean’s first thought, on hearing the annoyingly cheerful tinkle announcing the arrival of yet another customer in the already over-crowded cafe, is why on earth did he let Sammy talk him into something so kitschy and annoying.   </em>
</p>
<p>  <em>His second thought, following swiftly behind when he realises who is now stamping the snow off his boots at the door, is that Cas looks absolutely adorable bundled up in his brightly coloured sweater, long, stripy scarf trailing behind him, his cheeks and the tip of his nose reddened from the cold winter air outside. </em></p>
<p>  <em>The third and final thought, that just has time to register before Cas is standing right in front of him, beaming brightly, is when exactly did Dean became the kind of person that thinks anything at all is adorable, especially awkward astrophysicists who are extremely fussy about the way they take their coffee and wear sweaters with… oh God, are those actually goddamn reindeer? </em></p>
<p>With a little mistletoe, and a lot of meddling from Sam, Dean might just get what he wants for Christmas after all...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meddling & Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> originally written for the destiel advent calendar over on [tumblr](http://poorbeautifuldean.tumblr.com/post/105340667913/meddling-and-mistletoe)

Dean’s first thought, on hearing the annoyingly cheerful tinkle announcing the arrival of yet another customer in the already over-crowded cafe, is why on earth did he let Sammy talk him into something so kitschy and annoying.   

His second thought, following swiftly behind when he realises who is now stamping the snow off his boots at the door, is that Cas looks absolutely adorable bundled up in his brightly coloured sweater, long, stripy scarf trailing behind him, his cheeks and the tip of his nose reddened from the cold winter air outside. 

The third and final thought, that  _just_  has time to register before Cas is standing right in front of him, beaming brightly, is when exactly did Dean became the kind of person that thinks anything at all is adorable, especially awkward astrophysicists who are extremely fussy about the way they take their coffee and wear sweaters with… oh God, are those actually goddamn reindeer? 

He scowls as he steps up to the counter, feeling guilt settle heavily in his gut as Cas’ smile dims and those long, elegant fingers fiddle with the tassels on his scarf.  Dean knows Cas only does that when he’s anxious - though he chooses not to dwell on exactly  _how_  he knows that - and he hates the fact that on this occasion it’s because of him.  After all, it’s not like it’s Cas’ fault that Dean has the most ridiculous unrequited crush on him.   

“Hi Cas,” he greets the other man brightly.  “The usual?” he asks, wondering if there will ever come a day when Cas orders something other than a decaf vanilla latte.  “I just made a fresh batch of pastries too, if you’re interested?” he adds. 

Cas gazes at the display case on the counter, drawing his lip between his teeth as he deliberates, and Dean feels a surge of want.  Clearing his throat, Dean turns away and busies himself making Cas’ drink, careful to add exactly the right amount of syrup and an extra dash of milk, just the way Cas likes it.  He actually kind of hopes Cas never changes his order, since it was the main reason Dean first struck up an actual conversation with guy beyond  _‘what can I get you?_ ’ and  _‘have a nice day’_.  Dean gently teasing him for coming in and ordering the exact same thing like clockwork every day had led to a conversation, then another and another, their exchanges getting longer each day until Cas gradually became someone Dean not only thinks of as a friend, but wishes were more. 

He frowns when he catches sight of something unexpected in the polished chrome surface of the coffee machine.  Glancing over his shoulder to check, he gathers that yes, he was right, there is now a bunch of mistletoe suspended over the counter that definitely wasn’t there before Sammy arrived for his shift half an hour ago.  He feels his face growing hot, resolving to kill his meddling brother later and studiously ignoring the plant as he turns back to hand Cas his coffee.   

“I think I’d like an apricot danish please, Dean,” Cas decides, digging out his wallet.   

Dean waves a hand dismissively as he carefully selects the biggest pastry and plates it up for Cas.  

“On the house, Cas.  It’s a new recipe and I don’t know if it’s good or not so… You can just be my guinea pig and let me know what you think, and we’ll call it quits, huh?"  He flaps his hand again as Cas still hovers, uncertainty in the set of his features.  

“Seriously, dude,” Dean urges, desperate to get Cas away from the counter before he notices the mistletoe, or worse, before Sammy emerges from the kitchen and deliberately draws his attention to it and things get uncomfortable.  

Cas pulls out a ten dollar bill and adds it to the tip jar on the counter, giving Dean a theatrical wink as he does so, before putting his wallet away and finally heading towards the small table in the corner where he always likes to sit.  Once Cas’ back is turned, Dean elects to ignore the butterflies now fluttering madly in his stomach in favour of yanking down the offending plant.  He’s lost track of the number of times he’s told Sammy that there’s no way Cas is interested, rueing the day he caved under Sammy’s constant badgering and finally admitted that he had a crush on Cas, but for some reason his brother can’t seem to let it go.  Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice Cas watching his reflection in the window; doesn’t see the defeated slump of his shoulders as Dean dumps the mistletoe in the bin.  

 

*** 

Over the next couple of weeks, mistletoe makes its way into the cafe with a regularity that would almost be surprising, if Dean didn’t know just how single-minded and determined his brother could be.  Luckily, he always manages to remove it before Cas puts in an appearance, until the one time he doesn’t.   

Dean’s been distracted by a constant stream of clumsy customers, one spilling coffee all over the place and another knocking the dish of Dean’s home-made biscotti off the counter and onto the floor, leaving him scrambling to clear up broken glass and crumbs that he could swear have deliberately strewn themselves absolutely everywhere.  He’s already hot and flustered therefore when Cas shuffles his way through the door, and the way Cas’ hair sticks up all over his head when he pulls off the lumpy, woollen hat that Dean strongly suspects Cas knitted himself, does nothing to ease the situation. Instead, Dean’s fingers twitch with the urge to tangle themselves up in the dark, messy strands. 

“Gimme a sec, Cas,” he mumbles, turning away to start making Cas’ coffee in an attempt to prevent himself from blurting these thoughts out loud.  When he turns back, there’s an unfamiliar tension in Cas’ shoulders, its cause revealed when Cas looks pointedly upwards to where a delicate sprig of mistletoe hangs directly over their heads.  Dean coughs out a strangled sound as he slides the drink across the counter to Cas and warm fingers fleetingly brush against his own.  

“Ugh,” Dean scoffs.  “I think Sammy’s trying to flirt with the girl who delivers our creamer,” he lies, frantically trying to think on his feet.  “Don’t worry, man, I’m not gonna try and kiss you any time soon!” he adds, forcing out a laugh though his voice sounds strained.   

He fusses over the containers with the little packets of sugar, resolutely refusing to look up as Cas lingers at the counter a moment longer before eventually turning and making his way to the corner table.  

 

***  

Dean sinks onto the stool in the corner of the darkened kitchen - elbows propped on his knees and head resting in his hands, the noise of the party in the café gradually fading to a distant hum - and finally allows himself to acknowledge just how disappointed he is that Cas hasn’t showed. 

Dean had made a point of telling him about the Christmas party they were throwing to thank all their customers for making it their most successful year yet, and though Cas had seemed distracted, he’d muttered a vague affirmative and Dean had just assumed his mind was on his work.  He can’t imagine what it’s like spending your days thinking about the vastness of the universe.  Dean spends his days up to his elbows in flour and coffee grounds, just trying to keep everyone happy, and most of the time it’s enough.  Holidays bring it home though, just how lonely he is.  They make him realise just how much he wants someone to share it all with, wants someone to come home to in the evenings, wants Cas. 

“Dean?”  

A rough voice breaks into his thoughts and he raises his head to see a shadowy figure in the doorway, peering into the gloom of the kitchen.   

“Dean… Are you in here?” 

He pushes abruptly to his feet, the stool clattering to the floor behind him, when he realises the voice belongs to Cas.  

“I’m here, Cas,” he mutters, moving towards the doorway.  “Didn’t think you were gonna make it,” he confesses, hating the hint of vulnerability threading its way through the words.  

“Something came up at work,” Cas explains.  “But it’s dealt with now.  I came as soon as I could.”  

“You mean the world isn’t about to end?” Dean jokes weakly, leaning against the doorframe beside Cas.  

“Not tonight, anyway,” Cas responds dryly.  

Dean rolls his eyes, freezing when he sees the mistletoe hanging directly above their heads.  He briefly allows himself to imagine how easy it would be to lean into the warmth of Cas’ body, so close where they’re both crowded into the doorway.  How easy it would be to reach out and link their fingers together; to close the distance between them and to kiss those soft, plump lips the way he’s so often thought about. 

“Dammit Sammy!” he mutters, jerking his head towards the foliage when Cas frowns in confusion. 

Cas stiffens, gazing upwards for a long moment, before taking a deep breath and turning back to Dean.  

“It’s just a tradition Dean,” he asserts.  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do simply because of an antiquated pagan tradition.”   

“Who says I don’t want to?” Dean blusters, attempting to diffuse some of the tension that seems to thicken the air between them. 

“Dean…” Cas warns, his voice taut. 

"What?  You don’t wanna be kissed by this, Cas?” Dean scoffs, his laugh brittle as he gestures towards his own face, lips drawn into an exaggerated pout. 

“Stop, Dean.  Just stop,” Cas grates out harshly, turning abruptly to stride between the tables towards the front of the café and push his way out onto the street. 

Dean blinks in confusion, not quite sure where this went so utterly wrong, before hurrying after Cas, desperate to set right whatever it is he must have done.  He slams open the door, the aggressively cheerful jangle of that damned bell setting his teeth on edge, and his heart leaps when he realises Cas is right in front of him, standing stock still on the busy sidewalk right in front of the doorway, heedless of the annoyed glances thrown his way by the Christmas shoppers bustling past him. 

“Cas?” Dean asks tentatively, reaching for Cas’ shoulder to try to turn him around, only for Cas to shrug him off, Dean’s arm falling limply back to his side.  His fingers curl into a fist against his thigh as he silently berates himself for somehow managing to fuck everything up yet again.  When Cas eventually turns, his expression is pained and Dean feels it like a punch to the gut.  

“The thought of kissing me that bad, huh?” Dean tries to joke, but the tone of his voice is all wrong and he coughs in an attempt to hide it.  

“Just stop, Dean,” Cas pleads, his voice breaking.  “Just… please, stop.”    

Dean’s chest tightens painfully. 

“Cas…” he entreats.  “Cas, I don’t…”   

“Just stop pretending Dean!” Cas shouts, shrinking in on himself when the shoppers hurrying past them turn and stare.  “Just stop pretending, Dean,” he repeats, softer this time, sounding utterly defeated.  “I know you don’t want to kiss me, okay?  Whatever your brother may think, whatever my own feelings may be, you don’t want to so please… just leave it alone now.” 

Dean gapes. 

“My brother… You… Wait, what?” he stutters out.  “Cas… Are you saying you _do_ want me to kiss you?”  

Cas huffs in exasperation. 

“Of course I do Dean, but I’m not in the habit of forcing people to kiss me when they clearly don’t want to.”  

“You keep saying that I don’t want to, but don’t you think I’m the best judge of that?” Dean asks gently, desperately trying to tamp down the small flicker of hope in his heart. 

Cas looks up then, narrowing his eyes at Dean in irritation. 

“I  _know_  you don’t, Dean.  Do you think I didn’t see every time you ripped down the mistletoe whenever I came into the store?  That I didn’t see how desperate you were to avoid being in that situation?” he finishes, sadly.  

“I wanted to,” Dean blurts.  “God, Cas, I wanted to.  But I didn’t think you did, and I was afraid you’d be too nice to say no and then I’d give myself away.  Because to be honest,” he admits ruefully, “If I got to kiss you, I’m not sure I’d ever want to stop. 

Cas blinks at him, beautiful blue eyes widening in disbelief, before he breaks into a beaming smile, glancing upwards.  Dean follows his gaze and can’t help but laugh.  They’re standing directly under the sign for the cafe, and dangling from the wrought iron frame is a huge bunch of mistletoe.  His laugh peters out, breath catching in his throat, as he looks back at Cas and finds him suddenly standing almost impossibly close. 

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Cas murmurs, tilting his chin up to press a soft, fleeting kiss to Dean’s lips. 

“Cas…” is all Dean can manage to choke out, and Cas smiles fondly, bringing his hand to cup Dean’s face.  

“It’s okay Dean,” he whispers, his thumb caressing Dean’s cheekbone.  “I don’t ever want you to stop.”  

Dean reaches up then, revelling in the sensation as he tangles his fingers in the soft curls at the nape of Cas’ neck, his lips curving upwards in a relieved smile of his own.  

“Thank God,” he sighs.  “And Sammy, I guess,” he smirks, before leaning in to give Cas one more of what will turn out to be a lifetime’s worth of kisses.


End file.
